


A proposal

by FakeCirilla9



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Crack, I'm Sorry Tolkien, M/M, One Shot, canon if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 07:47:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20404177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FakeCirilla9/pseuds/FakeCirilla9
Summary: A blasphemous version of Finwë’s death





	A proposal

**Author's Note:**

> It is said that Manwë does not comprehend evil. Similarly his brother Melkor doesn’t get it why his actions are considered evil.

Dark horror befell those who rejected Valar invitation to Manwë’s feast.

The Darkening of Valinor wavered the hearts of the bravest, yet what approached Formenos’ dwellers was an even deeper darkness, a tangible one instead of the of lack of light that transpired over Valmar. From this darkness Melkor emerged.

“Well met. It is kind of you to come forward to receive me,” Melkor greeted the lone elf before him. “Are you alone?” the great Vala asked to start a polite conversation. He was really excited and anxious about the coming moment.

Finwë looked around himself, only now realizing he’s stayed as the last one on the post. All the rest disappeared, a shield dropped in haste still wobbled on the ground. The Noldor King gathered his courage, readied his sword and charged at the Power before him.

Melkor raised his hand reflexively and the blade melted under his touch. Finwë gaped at the steaming remains of the weapon in his hand.

“I came here to talk,” begun Melkor. He had been intending to do it properly and wait on Finwë mentioning the topic, but he was running impatient at the elf’s slow reactions.

“We have nothing to talk about!"

“But we do! You must have noticed I favor your son. He’s so pretty and skilled. I want him.” Well, that came out a bit crude maybe. But at least he said what he came with, now all that remained to do was to await Finwë’s consent.

“You will never get him!”

“Oh, I know, I know it can’t seem like he’s too easy to get.” Melkor was not deterred. “Your father’s honor demand you protest some at first. But hear me out completely: I do not come empty handed, I can offer your son a reign over the world. Well, after me of course. Only as my representative, he would have to listen to me and obey me in all things... But he can get a chief position over my smiths! He can become main general of my Valaraukar, should like commanding fiery army, don't you think? It'd be to his tastes.”

Finwë was nearly as red as the color of the robes Fëanor preferred. Melkor attributed it to a blush of embarrassment. It was not a common occurrence, after all, to be asked of your son’s hand by the most powerful being on Eä.

“I'd give you time to consider and wouldn't demand an instant reply, but right now I'm in a bit of a hurry,” saying this, Melkor glanced to the south if Tulkas was visible yet. “There might be chase after me… So, what's your answer? Can I have your son?”

“As long as I live,” Finwë said emphatically, “I won’t allow it.”

“That’s your answer?” Melkor pouted. “I thought you’d demand something more traditional. A half of the kingdom, his weight in gold…”

“The only way you can even consider laying your paws on my dearest son is over my dead body.”

“Is that your final mindset?”

The King of the Noldor did not waver.

“Yes.”

“I’m afraid my chosen one will be unhappy about this, but since you insist…” Melkor slew Finwë with the spear he had pierced the Trees with. Then he stepped over the body and went to take the Silmarils.

He couldn’t wait to see the delight on Fëanor’s face, when his betrothed would realize his precious gems are waiting on him in Angband already.


End file.
